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About Me

Welcome! I’m an actress and blogger who lives in Los Angeles. I’ve accepted my fate that I have to chase my dreams (and document that ish along the way!) I give you my stories with all the luv and all the kiwi a gal can muster.

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Had a good, fun run yesterday. I jogged by rows and rows of actor's trailers all lined up along the path. Big dressing rooms that I assume belong to Amy Poehler. (I saw them shooting some Parks and Rec the other day.)

So close...

When I was in college I used to run around a high school track every day. Each time I'd want to quit I'd think to myself if you can just put in one more lap it means you really want this...or if you put in one more lap you'll make it. I'd do all kinds of mental mind tricks in order to complete those miles...and they'd all involve acting and the dream and getting the dream and deserving the dream...

Now I'm running and thinking of my dream in a whole new way. Funny how much changes and how much doesn't change at all.

Oprah Presents Master Class (this delightful program on OWN) spoke to me. I was watching Morgan Freeman's class...he just knows. So wise when it comes to acting; what it takes...what builds the bones of a great actor...what ish is swimming around in the DNA of someone who should be in front of a camera.

I learned more about acting and me from that darn show than I ever have in any of my acting classes...felt a lot better about myself, too. Sadly acting classes don't leave you thinking you're on to something. Mr. Freeman on the other hand ended his class with this poem:

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story...

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here... ~Max Erhmann

I don't know if it's wise to ever turn to Bravo (everything's naughty, brain rotting addictive) but I did anyway and of course I found a show that I love, LOVE LOOOOOVE.

Bethany Ever After is so frickin hilarious, honest and charming to boot. When she told her audience she doesn't know how to do celebrity (while footage ran of her getting out of a limo and sharing her white panties with the world) I fell in love.

She's human and real...something that I would never say about anything on reality TV. Come on now...

She's great. I would groupie the shat out of her if I ever saw her in person. Who knew she was the head honcho behind Skinny Girl ish. I have yet to try any of that liquor, but I'll try the sangria just because she is my new TV BFF. That's just what you do for your friends...you try their ish and try things from their world.

It's like when I visited Twinkie in DC. I tried mango sticky rice. Seeeeee!

She's just swell and FEIST-AY!...and can I just say I LOVE her food blogger, Nick...with his awkwardly awkward self.

I have no idea what got into me, but I was trying to help Katarina cook for our slumber party night and I just kept jacking up. First a chef's knife flipped off the cutting board and stabbed me in my heel. Yeah, that felt good.

Then, not even 10 minutes later, I was trying to remove something from the oven and frickin burned my middle finger so bad I teared up.

I have no idea what was wrong with me, but after that last stunt I was banned from the kitchen. I was given a glass of wine (why they trusted me with glass, I know not!) and told to sit still.

Don't know if you've read Little Bee, but if you have then you're more than familiar with the dark side of Mr. Cleaves' work. The doom and gloom definitely pops up, but this time he brings that biting English humor that makes my butt twitch so much it starts to hurt.

I swear I want to give Chris Cleaves a hug. He needs it...and then he needs to go see a therapist to see if his reoccuring themes have something to do with his personal life.

Themes you'll need to be cool with: women who like to cheat for simple reasons and death. Lots and lots of death!!!

You'll also need to get on board with the lingo, slang, jibber jab pretty darn quickly. If you can handle all of that then you're golden.

It took a bit, but I grew to like the book. It's hard for me to embrace books that are dark and heavy usually. (I use book time to unwind, travel to a better place, imagine something lovely...) That being said, this guy has to be a good writer in order to win my eyeballs over.

That being written, I give it two eyeballs. I shall have good things to say come book club time.

I'm obsessed with wheat grass shots at Jamba juice. During marathon training I'd promise myself a shot if I could just make it to mile 5, 8, 10...

While they still taste like I'm licking lawn (don't be dirty) I know they're making my innards just lovely so I keep knocking them back.

I love when there are Jamba newbies around. They see the green stuff...then they see me pick it up and delicately bring it to my lips (pinky up) then they see me knock it back and I see little up chuck spasms start.

The night before the Bob Harper event I was exhausted...no time to prep my outfit for the next night so Jersey did it for me. He ironed and put the little creases in my trouser pants. I'm a nut when it comes to organization and presentation...you wanna know the way to my heart? Make my ish look pretty and neat.

I swear I want to hump the boy's leg like a vigorously energetic chihuahua every time I see him folding my laundry.

If I'm to pop back zits, then you are to adhere to any and all beauty rules I may suggest for you including clay masks and conditioners. You obviously think I'm capable of handling grave and serious beauty tasks. Extend that trust.

If I make dinner you do the dishes. If you make dinner, you also still do the dishes. (Did I stutter?)

Forgetting to remove your whisker clippings from the shower or bathroom sink can and will more than likely result in a piss pump punch.

When I fart it's cute and hilarious. When you fart, you need to get your behind to the man cave quick. That ish is nasty.

You're not allowed to get mad at me for punching the shat out of you while I'm sleeping. (Apparently I did this two nights ago.) I have the tiniest, skinniest, wimpiest arms known to man or woman. I doubt I can hurt your behind. YOU on the other hand have sucker punched me not once, not twice, but THREE times while you were sleeping which knocked me out of bed on two occasions, which is why your piss pump would always hurt the next morning. Just saying.

I need coffee on Fridays. Cinnamon dolce latte with soy. No whip. And possibly a little note/card with it that states that rules were a brilliant and thoughtful idea.

I met Jeremiah from the Rachel Zoe Project at Bob Harper's party and boy was I a drooling, hot tranny mess! I can't help it. I totally created an imaginary relationship with the poor lad after watching him on one of my favorite shows.

At first I didn't like him. I admit it. Just thought it a tad weird he was hired with no experience..Hubby Rodger called Rachel out on it and said he was dreamy and cute and fun and THAT'S why she hired him. Ding! Ding! Ding! Pretty people always get the worm, damn it.

Then he grew on me. His aesthetic is sooo beautiful. He manages to keep some Jeremiah-ish integrity while giving folks what they want/need. I'd say it's elegant, organic, masculine splendor. Can you even describe home design that way? I don't know, but I did!

...And for the record he wants babies and I told him he can do a swirly with Jersey's spermies so that I can keep him in my life. I would totally use my boo. Don't think I wouldn't.

The beautiful betty on the right is his bestie, Julie. She told me to try the bar method and a Brazilian workout proven to make me bootylicious. Heyyyy.

Beautiful darn besties...If they weren't so sweet I probably would have told them to get the rose martinis...(That drink was really strong and bad...but they were awesome sauce so I recommended the Hermes...only in Hollywood, people!)

I work full-time for an insurance company...I work from home. I don't get dressed most days until it's time to go to the gym at 4 in the evening. Life is far from glamorous or interesting most days...

Then the magic La La Land Fairy comes and sprinkles her ish and POOF! I'm at an event rubbing elbows with celebrities and drinking hoity toity cocktails with my buds. It's weird.

Last night I attended an event for Bob Harper for Fit Bottomed Girls. (I'll talk more about that on FBG's site in March!) I talked with Bob for a bit, hugged, jumped and shared some FBG love with Jillian and got my fitness talk on with a lovely dear. (Apparently I must try a bar method class and some Brazilian class that promises to make me bootylicious. I'm down!)

Get this...I met Jeremiah from Rachel Zoe! THE Jeremiah...THE cutie patooty decorating phenom who was talented enough to get Jersey to plop down on the couch beside me and actually watch the dang show. He's just as cute in person and just as genuine. He sat and talked with Jersey, the Loverchinis and I for a good half hour. I was totally geeking the freak out.

Sometimes when I am in the same room as celebrities I feel super duper small and insignificant. I catch myself growing smaller while they're lucky stardom grows ever larger in the room. Just hard for me to see people living out my dreams that close to me, ya know? I didn't feel that at all last night, though.

I was just me...doing my job for FBG and having a good time in the process. Had one too many glasses of the Prosecco I think.(My head is now pounding!) but mentally I left feeling like I got just the good energy necessary to keep me pushing towards my dreams.

I had been writing my agent for weeks only to find out yesterday that she had up and quit the agency without telling anyone. Snazzy, right? So now I'm sans anyone helping me. (Not that I was getting a ton of auditions anyhow)

Finding that bit of information out, combined with the fact that I had cancelled my first acting workshop for a writing gig that ended up falling through left me in a miserable state.

My appetite disappeared. I had a raging headache from all the crying and worrying and devastatingly negative thoughts...This is the pretty side of acting that the big time actors forget to mention.

All I wanted to do was crawl up into a ball and forget about all the heart breaks, all the disappointments, all the friends in the industry who have either screwed me over or ignored my pleas for help....

This is an ugly business filled with ugly moments. It's scary when you have no idea what you're doing, where you need to go, or what you need to do...

Sooo my improv partner had to cancel (which made me soooo very happy!) It gave me the time after my workout to hit up some stores looking for stuff for an event I'm attending tomorrow night.

I was looking for these bad boys:

yellow-toed happy joy joy!

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No luck, though. I swear there's a frickin' conspiracy lurking out there in the world. Someone truly hates women with big feet so that powerful person punishes us by never having our sizes. I'm an 11. Yes, it's big. Is it Andre the Giant big? Nooooo!

You'd think with all the tall, corn fed folks in Middle Earth and the Amazon/Glamazon models of NY they'd make more 10+ sizes.

Hmph. I had to go home and order those babies online. They won't be ready for the event, but they'll be here in time for my weekend adventures to come.

Pelvic thrusts for the perfect yellow flat. I have been looking for you for over a year now...and there you go popping up for under thirty smackaroos!

Makes me want to bite my lower lip and let it tremble a bit...Finding shoes is SO hard for me so when I do scope a size 10.5/11 I buy...I buy even if those puppies are stupid expensive. Then I have to wear them for YEARS until they fall off my feet because I'm frugal and weird about getting my money's worth.

Acting is hard. It becomes even harder when you're beating yourself up for not finding the right connects, the right moments, the right ins AND those around you are also beating you up; wondering why you haven't gotten in yet...like it's really easy or something.

Sigh...

I'm going to improv tonight...why I'm not sure. Because it shows people I mean it...because maybe I'm supposed to be doing this stuff...again with the sighs.

It's not from the known, but the unknown, tish, that creativity and inventiveness are born.

Turn away from the predictable, cliché, and reliable. Brave the void where the darkness is greatest. Trust the quiet, find the stillness, feel the calm. Then steadily think, speak, and move as if you were led. Behave as if your vision were clear. Anticipate the emotional rush that will come with your triumph. And as if by magic, as you raise your pen to write, you'll find the words have already been summoned, flooded in light that was there all along, in a world that has just as anxiously anticipated your arrival.

On Friday night I went and saw The Vow. Yes, I knew it was a chick flick and I didn't care one darn bit. I love sappy good stuff. I say why not. Why not see two people smiling and cooing at each other. I like to watch flicks that contribute to the good stuff that makes the world go 'round. (Watching scary, evil ish has never been my bag...just feeding a global pain body.)

So yes, I saw the movie and I liked it. Yeah...I couldn't stop staring at Channing's baby teeth or his weird hair cut and even weirder physique (something wonky was going on with his chest to arm ratio) but his weird little quirks weren't enough to distract me from the overall flick.

I still found myself getting angry and frustrated, sad and happy...basically captivated. The movie was two hours long, but it didn't feel like a long arse movie. I did keep waiting for someone to die...Doesn't someone usually die in a Nicholas Spark's movie? Sorry if I spoiled that for anyone. I'm pretty sure I was the only one waiting for that in the theater, though. I didn't cry once during the darn thing, which is good!

Nope...didn't cry until the movie ended and a message came up stating that the whole darn movie was based on two real people. Based on a true story? Damn it! Tears started welling up in my eyeballs.

Something about losing your memory...your life and the love of your life. Well that's just a little too much for Tishy. Jersey leaned over at one point and said, "I'd just show you your blogs."

Cute, yes, but I don't really blog about him like that lol...not enough to convince my new memory-challenged self that I loved the boy enough to marry him!!! I can't be mushy...Don't expect me to start writing that stuff here BUT I do give you all permission to tell me what's up if that were to ever happen.

Just saying...

I must now go sip tea and push down that problematic frog that keep trying to jump out of my throat.

So I'm going to a magazine cover event thing for Fit Bottomed Girls soon and I have no idea what to wear.

What the heck is up with me and outfits? I swear I get super duper crabby when I find out I have to dress up for something.

This is when I wish I could rock Ellen's look all the time. No one gets onto her for rocking her chucks. Totally not fair.

I'm hitting up a couple of places this weekend to find what the social media world has advised me to wear. I'm supposed to find some cute trouser pants, heels, a snazzy shirt, groovy necklace and blazer. Easy enough, right?

I've been beating myself up trying to decide if it was okay or not okay to write a rant. I just don't know if folks who choose not to write deserve unexpected press. Ya know what I mean, Vern?

Then I decided it's less about the person and more about me writing the bad ish out of myself so...

Why Valentines Day Sucked:

I don't like V Day. Never really needed it, understood it, cared for it, blah blah blah. I'd host little spoil events for friends and honor them in different ways...little slumber parties, etc. because it's cute to be sweet and loving to your pals. Still sounds mad cheesy, but whatever.

So anyways, I've told Jersey this. I've never and will never expect gifts, flowers or cards on the day. My dad sends me a valentine and that's all the cuteness I've ever needed. Jersey still gets me stuff anyways but in the past it's been so cute and thoughtful that I've just went along with it. We went and saw one of my favorite artists, Goepele, and when she performed "Closer to My Dreams," I just about wet myself. It's my acting theme song. That small gesture meant the world to me.

I can always get down with sweet and thoughtful. I want to marry sweet and thoughtful! What I don't want to marry is forced and fake. Forced and fake are gifts that are generic to the day...chocolates are a big one. I can't eat chocolate. Chocolate gives me the major toots. I JUST figured out I get the toots because I'm lactose intolerant and it's MILK chocolate. Why did it take me 10+ years to figure that out? Why did J have to knock that piece of aha into my noggin just last weekend? Special I am...

So yeah I got chocolates I can't eat and we went to a concert for someone I don't really dig all that much. I understand that all of it was his sweet attempt to show he cared. I GET THAT PEOPLE! I feel like an honest to goodness brat about complaining about gifts.

This is where my sentimental sap starts oozing out. I'd rather get nothing at all. Getting me something that I clearly don't like or can't have just makes me think he doesn't know beanie squat about me and THAT nugget of knowledge is a lonely, sad feeling that I've now had for three days and I still want to cry.

My friends and family have sassed me saying I'm silly and to get over it. He was attempting to be sweet. I get that. He is a sweet guy. I'm just upset that maybe I'm not as understood as I'd like to think...and that's where the romance comes into play for me. The only thing I've ever wanted out of a mate is to be understood. Someone I can relate to and all that jazz.

So now I'm sitting in my office, looking a hot mess, tearing up and feeling like poop. I made extra sweet black tea and even lit a candle this morning to try to chase away the glum, but nothing's working.

That's why I hated Valentines Day this year...its ripple effect just keeps going and going. I have a sad case of depression and I don't know how to shake myself out of the funk.

Last night I thought maybe I'd eat the chocolates right before bed and then hotbox the hell out of him so his nose would forever remember not to get me chocolates, but the tooting mischievousness faded pretty quick. Now I'm just back to ho hum.

Years ago I contributed to a book about my college experience. It was cool to see my words in a bookaroo, but it didn't have anything to do with any of my goals for my future so I scooted a long with life and just checked that off the "B" Bucket List.

Then I just received a copy of a book I was interviewed for almost two years ago. This one's actually about me and acting...that little dream I've been chasing so I guess it's an "A" Bucket Lister. I'm actually excited about this bad boy. It involves a head shot and pages of my funny, intelligent banter than some big time director will more than likely read and love.

Then said director will hunt me down much like Duran Duran's chick from the Hungry Like a Wolf video and the rest will be history...in the future.

The book is called Confessions of a Working Actor. I'm an actor...and I DO have a job...just not in the industry quite yet :)

Going to a twins' birthday party is the best I tell ya! Two little ones...each with their own little individual stories. The one on the right was born first by two minutes. The one on the left loves her pacifier, the other amuses herself with anything that comes in her path.

They're both happy, inquisitive, adorable little awesomes. The one time their mommy let me babysit I got the chance to rock with them and it was the best moment. They're not called little awesomes for nothing, ya know?

I saw a movie that's kind of the perfect thing to talk about on Valentines Day.

May I Be Frank is a documentary about a man who accidentally walks into a vegan/raw restaurant in San Francisco and walks away with a mission and team ready to transform. It deals with health, diet, closet skeletons...the works.

Random thing to do on a Saturday night, right? I have no idea how I end up getting to experience all of the cool things that come my way. J received a random media invite so we headed to the Agape Center to check it out. We had no clue what we'd get, but it sounded like a fun adventure. And honestly I was a bit cynical going in. There was a lot of hippidy dippidy stuff happening that I couldn't quite make sense of. J just kept whispering to me, "Be an anthropologist..." and it worked.

I let down my walls and out came the joy. I enjoyed the ish out of that film! I really did. Frank, the guy in the film, drops endearing eff bombs and shows us all that transformation isn't linear or easy...but totally possible.

It's the kind of love I can get down with on a day like today. Self Love, yo!

I had such a busy but fabulous weekend with J. I swear it always goes by too fast. She leaves and I start the water works. (By now you all should know I have issues with goodbyes.)

This visit was long and great, though so I can't whine too much. We squeezed in so much fun. I'm quite proud of us. Lots of great restaurants, movie nights, girlie primping, and FBG work.

On Saturday we met up with my gal pals for tea at this quaint little place in Glendale called Favorite Place. Loverchini, J, E and I sipped on rose water lemonade, nibbled on dainty sandwiches and got into an intense whisper conversation about murders in the news. How in the heck that happens I know not, but the last time I went to a tea party the same thing happened. I don't know what it is about charming tea time, but gruesome chats always seem to pop up. Ironic.

J ordered a Bourbon Apple at Bottega Louie. The heavenly drink consists of bourbon, apple cider, honey water, lemon, ginger syrup and bitters. I took one sip and my eyes rolled back. Don't know if it's the groovy ice they put in it or the love, but that dang drink was magical!

So yeah, I may have pulled a Kiwi and stayed up a bit too late last night watching the Grammys...This is weird all around because I NEVER watch the Grammys. I just listen for people to tell me about whatever kick ass performance they saw and then I YouTube that ish. Saves me oodles of hours. I had to watch this year, though because of Whitney's passing. I'm not trying to immerse myself in the morbidity of it all, but she was just SUCH a part of my personal story.

The first time I saw her hopping around on TV she had long blond, somewhat curly hair and I immediately thought she was like me. We were the only two mixed girls in the world and she was therefore my TV best friend. I did find out she was indeed not mixed, but by then I didn't choose my best friends based on their similarities to me so she remained on that pedestal until she married B.B. and started preaching on about crack being whack.

...Never stopped loving that voice though.

So what did I think of the Grammys? Felt like they honored Whitney well...I wanted to see some of the old school greats sing/talk about her, but I understood it was short notice.

Best Performance: Rihanna. Hands down. That girl can dance! And I actually dug her whole biker chick-ish look. I think that's how you'd describe it...

Worst Performance: Nicki Minaj. Hands down. What in Hades was that?! I think Lady Gaga was sitting in the audience suffering from a mixture of butt twitches and delight. Nicki was obviously trying to go all theatricality, but sadly and obviously missed the damn boat. She needs to find her own groove quickly...I felt bewildered after watching her weird little Roman thing. What the heck was that?! I'm still upset at that ish. Trying too hard...TOO HARD!

The commercials were pretty darn good, too! I loved the Chipotle one. I downloaded Willie's take on The Scientist immediately. If Willie says we should go back to the start, I'm going back to the start!!!

That was about it for me. Wasn't terrible TV, but not sure I'll watch next year. Just not my bag I guess.

I was sooo expecting to see a little Carrie Bradshaw pop out. Nope. No Carrie.

I was expecting we'd get some whackadoo Aesop's Fable that would leave us rocking in a corner because we'd learn women really couldn't have it all (career, fam bam, cool husband who's free of smartie pants comments because he's butt hurt you haven't made him the mini god of the family). Nope. No Aesop's Fable.

The writing was good, hopeful and cheery for sure, but it wasn't cheesy over-the-top. It was just a feel-good flick; perfect for a night in with a gal pal. I loved her outfits (totally not Carrie-esque, remember!)

Greg Kinnear is still cute as a button. Pierce Brosnan is still the hottest grandpa to walk the face of the Earth and the actress who played Momo was hilarious and reminded me A LOT of my pal in Chicago, Laura. Uncanny personality similarities... lol

My spleen hurts! My body has been brutally handled in a harsh, violent way and I don't know if I shall survive.

At least that's what I keep telling myself...

Yesterday was crazy how much working out we did. We went non-stop for THREE hours people...and then I had a small vegan burger (like that would feed the inner beast inside starving for fuel!) Yesterday was mad fun though. Hanging out with J for any type of fitness event is always an adventure. She's always getting on me to try something new...to quit my complaining (my butt STILL hurts from snowboarding but I did those damn squats man!) We met cool girls, which always seems to happen, and had a blast.

We decided that even though our bodies were done, we sure weren't so we somehow managed to shower, dress up and go out for a nice dinner to celebrate FBG. We had some pretty tasty cocktails that left us feeling nice and then came back home and watched How Does She Do It with Sarah Jessica Parker.

...Movie was actually cute and entertaining; total surprise! I just wanted a good chick flick to watch with my main gal pal. We weren't expecting something we'd actually dig. Good job gods of all things girly! You did a good job!

Now that the FBG event is over we can spend the rest of the weekend relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Now that I'm in the thick of it all I realize I had no clue just how much I needed some J time. It's just good to be 14 again...laughing, giggling and having to force ourselves to go to bed. Aren't girlfriends great that way? I don't know how some girls can live without 'em!

J and I are participating in an intriguing adventure hosted by Jamba Juice today. I can share nothing with you. The only thing I can tell you is we will not (I repeat) will NOT be swimming around in the juice. We will not be wrestling in the juice and we will not be using the juice to create world peace.

I'm weird about bags. It takes me forever to find one I like. When I do find one I'll rock that ish to its demise. Secretly I wish I were one of those girls that rocked bags based on the daily outfit, but when push comes to shove I'm lazy as heck...plus I lack creativity when it comes to me and my style ish.

While I was in Mammoth (sans TV) I found this bad boy. The first bag in a long time I actually drooled over. It's a Furla in dark grey. I have named him Furbie.

J is coming into town today and I can not wait! I swear it's like the Universe knows just when we need each other.

I'm in desperate need of a slumber party and she's a goodie gal to have one with. We have a Fit Bottomed Girls event we have to take care of and then it's play play play time! We'll cook together, go out and experience a snazzy restaurant, catch a chick flick...on Saturday we're meeting up with Loverchini for some Pasadena primping time. (Mama Tish's eyebrows and lip are in dire need of some bush removal!)

In all, it should be the kind of weekend the doctor ordered.

I feel blessed that she has the opportunity to come out so much. (She'll be back in April for Coachella.)

I pride myself on being a tough, independent strong woman. I like to think that while I love living with Jersey, I could totally make it on my own just fine...wouldn't be no big THANG...

I love how my ego is all big britches and muscle.

Jersey had to go back home unexpectedly to be with his family and so what did I do once I dropped him off? I cried the ugly cry.

Yep. Sure did. I pouted all night before he left, too. Yep sure did. I'd like to blame Aunt Flo...point my finger at her and say she's the culprit for my total namby pamby behavior, but I can not tell a lie. I chopped down the cherry tree. I miss that dude so bad when he goes away.

I really miss him when he goes away for a long time and then I cry the ugly cry. When I cry the ugly cry I make an ugly sound and so life in general is just ugly.

I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing...Is it normal to blubber? I know it doesn't feel too good, but I guess it's a good thing to miss someone even though you clean his man cave's bathroom...and have to cook at 10:30pm because ole boy was too lazy/clever to eat anything other than peanut brittle.

I need my J to get here quick before the crying headache sets in. I told you it was ugly, right?

Sometimes I stress hard core about what to prepare for the week...what to cook/having the time to cook it/blah blah blah...

Jersey is always telling me I stress too much and he'd be fine if I didn't cook. He gives me that whole, "I cooked before you. I will cook again!" pep talk.

Last night I went to that improv class from 8 to 10pm. I totally expected there to be food when I got home, but there was nada. I went upstairs and asked the poor guy what he had eaten...peanut brittle. He had eaten peanut brittle for dinner.

Um...

Is this some sort of thing men do to trick us into being like their mamas?! I ended up having to stay up hella late to make food for dinner and my lunch for the next day. Men are either really lazy or hella smart.

Here's an acting little tid bit for you: I've never taken an improv class. Nope. Not one and it's a tid bit important for the career.

Dara is my pal from junior high/ high school who has always been involved (and excelled) in all things theater. I remember watching her back in the day. She was really good and so when she told me she knew of a place that offered free classes I knew I had to go with her...for the sake of acting.

It was TERRIFYING though. I don't know what it is about me and groups of strangers...me throwing my acting out there for the world to judge...but I get all weird. The palms sweat, the bubble guts gurgle in my tummy and I turn into a hot mess.

My nails are little stubs now. I click and rip at them when things are scary. Messed up that personal manicure for nothing, though because the class was fun.

It helped that Dara was there and she's energetic and open and totally up for good laughs. She'd set the tone for the group of newbies and then we'd go in and then do our thing. (My friend Moon was there with us...group date!)

I'll more than likely go back with her. I think it would be fun to open up that hemisphere of my brain...get the goofy side tickin' and a'tockin'.

I'm the type of gal who can be happier than Whitney Houston at a crack house, only to fall into a deep sadness the minute someone walks into the room with puffy eyes from crying. I don't know if it's empathy, or some hippidy dippidy thing that's beyond words, but I just am super duper sensitive when it comes to the energy bouncing around in a room.

That being said, I just came out of a stupendous stoup of negative angst due to the fact that I had defriended someone back in July and the negative energy circling that just wouldn't go away. Everyone was constantly talking about it...asking me questions...telling me stuff that would get me riled up all over again.

It was TOO much. I got to a point where I was praying and writing "Peace" in my journal every night for an entire month. I just didn't want such negativity in my life. Sure the friendship may have been over, but that didn't mean I wanted to sneer and butt twitch every time her name was brought up. That's terrible!

(And dishonest...if someone has that much power in your thoughts you need to really assess what's truly going on, why you defriended, etc.)

So that chick and I talked...and talked...and talked a lot more. We spent a couple hours one night going over (in person) why things had happened, what stirred the pot and got stuff nasty heated...all of it. I was hella vulnerable. I was as honest as honest comes and told her the whole nitty gritty. I mean, what's the point of lying if you're sick of the way things are. Be strong, put it all out there and clear the darn air.

...And it worked! I have peace! We're civil now. We're kind and we're considerate and that's definitely helped the peace in my soul start to expand and grow.

It feels so good to takea look at myself and figure out where I need(ed) to improve. SERIOUSLY!

Jersey and I woke up early on Saturday morning and did all the shopping for the big day...that night we prepped the food, watched a scary movie, The Rite, with Anthony "frickin scary" Hopkins and crashed. Next bright and cheerful morning we woke at 7am to the delightful sound of our neighbor's demolition crew tearing the shat out of their town home. Nice,eh? The Positive Pollyanna in me thought, "Well since they're making all of this noise at silly times of the day, they won't mind us making a whole bunch of noise this afternoon."

Everything works out, don't ya think?!

Katarina came over first, toting bags full of stuff she needed to cook at our place. We had bourbon wings, mac n cheese ball things, dips, veggies, cupcakes, chili, turkey burgers...My stomach is starting to get ready for a pooh just because of this rehash I tell ya!

The gang started to trickle in around 3 (late little buggers) and the party picked up quick. We had some Patriot fans, but for the most part it was cheers and beers for the Giants.

Everyone was getting along and having a blast...Some Don Julio tequila shots may have been slammed at different touchdowns/great plays...

It was a great party...I love all the people that came. Watching Jersey turn drunk red in the face (Asian thing) with his crazy pals was delightful. Super Bowl #46, you were snaz-tastic! Thank youuuuu!

Saturday's book club was really good. The Alchemist always stirs up juicy conversation. We discussed our dreams and persistence...all that good stuff that made that book so magical.

The next book is Incendiary by Chris Cleave.

We drink mimosas, nibble on scones and pastry puffs. It's very girly and hella cathartic. We all need intelligent, honest chats with our pals from time to time. I swear if I could read books faster I'd have one of those bad boys once a week.